


Breaking

by Liberte_Egalite_Broadway



Series: dream, with a fever [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Study, Drug Abuse, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I simply cannot stress enough that Peter is a Sad Boy, Minor Original Character(s), Morning After, Other, Peter winds up on a drug planet after Juno leaves him, Pining, Post-Episode: s01e18 Juno Steel and the Final Resting Place, This mentions Ramses and the THEIAs, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liberte_Egalite_Broadway/pseuds/Liberte_Egalite_Broadway
Summary: After Juno leaves him, Nureyev intends to start again on a new planet. Except that new planet turns out to be a den for the wealthy, where every drug is legal, where people come to forget, and where a man plots to help take over Hyperion City.Several bad decisions ensue from there.





	Breaking

**Author's Note:**

> i have so many ongoing projects, but I had the idea for this and wanted to try it. so buckle your seatbelts, motherfuckers, I'm about to cause you pain. 
> 
> this fic is the first installment of a series that will be either three or four parts. it describes a bunch of really bad decisions Peter made after Juno left, and then his eventual recovery. the series will get progressively less painful as it goes on, but for now you're all going to be in angst hell for a while. it's a vent piece so i'm not at all sorry. ;)
> 
> comments are always appreciated! love you guys. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Violence including murder  
> Graphic fight scene  
> Suicidal thoughts  
> Abandonment  
> Drug abuse  
> Strong language including the f word  
> Abuse of sleeping pills  
> A character provides another character with illegal substances  
> A character's hip is grabbed without consent  
> References to mind control  
> References to sex  
> False relationship

I don't know where I am at first. 

The curtains are drawn, though why there are curtains I can't remember - my temples throb, and the sensation of that throbbing hits me before the sensation of the soft pillow cradling my head. I sling an arm across my eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them, remembering the nightmare that came before. There were screams _(mine, and his)_ , and a dark room. My own fists, battered against a solid surface until the skin cracked, until blood dripped down the rivets between my knuckles, _"Open this door! Open it now!"_ and the muffled sounds of gunshots. The tomb. A dream.

I do what I normally do in the morning and take inventory of my surroundings. This is a decent hotel, as Martian hotels go. Comfortable sheets. And I'm sharing them with someone else. 

Remembering that makes me smile. I stretch out into the darkness, one hand extending for the bedside lamp; with the other, I reach out into the space beside me in this bed. Seeking him. Wanting to see if he's awake, so I can pull him against me, run my fingers through his impossibly springy curls, trail kisses down the slope of his forehead. 

But instead of another person’s warmth, I find cold silk.

"...Juno?” I mumble. I reach out my other hand, farther, and the light flicks on. He’s not here.

"Juno? Juno!" 

_(He's not here.)_

I slide out of bed. My robe is on the floor where he tossed it after ripping it off of me; I slip it on, grab my glasses, and go to the windows. When I throw the curtains open sunlight assaults the room. I stand blinking, until my vision clears enough to take in the metallic city reflecting light on the horizon. I already know what I'll see when I turn around to face the hotel room, but I do anyway. And I see it. 

A room without Juno.

 _(This isn't happening.)_ I sit down on the edge of the bed, run my fingers through my hair. Juno will be back, of course he will be. He's just stepped outside - to make another call to his secretary, maybe, or to get coffee from the shop downstairs. He seems like a coffee person. Or maybe he's realized he left something in the Ruby7 and went to get it. I don't see his coat, maybe it was that.

But... I don't see anything else of his, either.

His clothes and bag are both gone. And the bed... except for the place where I got out, the blankets on the bed have been fixed, like he smoothed them over me. Before he left. 

A sob tears out of my throat. I cover my mouth with my hand, feeling tears drip along my cheeks and onto my fingers. The traffic of that city continues outside the window. He's there, somewhere, on the streets, hidden amidst those spires and buildings. In this shambled amalgamation of a city that he chose over me. 

I curl up on the bed, twisting the silk throw between my fingers while tears slowly dampen the pillow under my face. I can feel a heaviness, a weight on the inside of my chest and throat, pinning me down with sorrow so great that I cannot even imagine how to cope with it. Maybe it would have been easier if we had both died in that tomb. If we hadn't lived, and I hadn't had that amazing night with him, and time to think he would leave with me. 

_"I'm going to take such good care of you," I whispered against his chest last night._

_"Oh yeah?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You're off to a pretty great start, not gonna lie."_

_"What, this?" I lifted an eyebrow and ran my tongue along one of his scars, making him whimper. "This is just the beginning, darling." I propped myself up on one elbow, the silk rustling prettily, and cradled his jaw in my other hand. My fingertips pressed softly into his skin wherever I touched him. He was so soft, so beautiful. Lying there underneath me with the biggest smile on his face, he looked radiant._

_"I believe it," he mumbled, and let me kiss him again._

Damn it, I loved that lady. 

***

_(The first thing I was going to do was take him shopping. That trench coat was his signature look, certainly, but one moth-eaten outfit did not a wardrobe make.)_

I have a dress with me, stuffed at the bottom of my well-packed bag. It was my back-up outfit for Duke Rose, and it mercifully has a high collar. I strap on my knives, put on the dress and a pair of flat shoes; no makeup, because suddenly making an effort has absolutely no importance to me. All that’s left is to check out of the hotel. 

I go through an inventory of everything I brought with me, and that’s when I see it. 

A glass bottle of the cologne I’ve been wearing for years now, which sits innocently on the bathroom counter. After days _(days? weeks?_ ) underground, the scent naturally faded from me, but he asked me to put on more once we got to the hotel room. 

_“This is gonna sound weird, but can, I mean can you, uh…”_

_“Just ask me, darling.”_

_“ I, um. I really like your cologne…”_

_He was so adorable - a little shy, but somehow so maddeningly sexy all at once. “How much should I put on?”_

I pick up the bottle and smash it on the floor. Then I throw my entire bag into the garbage chute. I have nothing except these clothes and the knives hidden underneath them, and I’m not even slightly concerned about that. It’s time for me to start from scratch again. 

***

My plan was to take Juno on a luxury starliner, but I leave Mars alone by sneaking my car onto the first freighter that I can find and stashing away in their cargo hold when the crew isn't looking. Once the ship takes off I get out and inspect my surroundings. There are a bunch of metal crates stacked in pyramids, big enough that the Ruby7 could fit inside. When I take the side off of one, I find that they're full of whisky bottles. I don’t drink very often, especially not when I’m working _(which is to say, almost always)_. It dulls my senses, but to be frank, I could use that right now. I’d rather feel nothing right now. So I drink half a bottle.

I get out of the ship by emptying one of the crates, stashing the bottles in a different one, and driving my car into the one that is now empty. The crewpeople drag the crate down the conveyor belt ramp, and once I hear them leaving to get another one, I open the crate from the inside and drive away. A cityscape rises around me, dirty with trash, the buildings crooked and abandoned. Yet I can see tall skyscrapers and floating mansions in the distance. I hide my car at the back of an abandoned warehouse and get out.

The sky is a navy blue with a dome-shaped aura of light pollution close to the ground. From the distant mansions, I hear buzzing choruses of vehicles and music, mixed in with a familiar smell. Instantly I know what planet - or rather what moon - this is. I haven’t been here in years, but I would recognize the smell of Callisto anywhere; a fragrance so heady that some people rumor there are actually intoxicating chemicals pumped into the air. 

There’s a good reason for that rumor. Callisto is the only place in the galaxy where every drug is legal. And, at least for the foreseeable future until I can secure some cash and a false ID, it is where I’ll be staying. 

Oh well. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean I have to try anything.

***

I have five drinks sloshing around in me and a needle positioned above my arm less than four hours later. The smallest of gasps escapes me when the sharp point enters my skin, injecting the shimmery silver liquid into my blood. I forgot how much these things could hurt. 

“Never tried Silver Mage before, huh?” asks the man to my left. I wave him off. 

“Shut up. It’s been years.” I take the shot of vodka he hands to me and toss it back. 

“Years since you tried Silver Mage, or years since you were sober?”

“Shut _up_.” I like this persona so far. Hermes Fitzgerald is blunt, abrasive, one of those wealthy and hobbiless heirs who I’ve robbed countless times. 

I have no idea who this man is. He took the stool next to mine five minutes ago and in that amount of time has ordered six cocktails in rainbow order, put on a new tie, and handed me a syringe and two shots of vodka for free. So far, he’s been non-threatening, and a good person to practice Hermes’s mannerisms on besides.

“Whatever you say,” he chuckles, turning back to his drink _(indigo)_. I lean back in my seat, rolling the tension out of my neck. I can feel the drug taking hold over me. The dancers on the floor nearby look like a blur of motion, the music blasting overhead has doubled in speed. The bar I’m sitting at feels much higher than it did a minute ago. 

Callisto has two worlds and no in between. There are the pleasure palaces and clubs of the super-rich, where the liquor flows freely and the prices are as staggering as the revelers. And then there are the dark alleys, the gutters. Those are the streets I found myself in when I first arrived here. People come to this moon to get high, but then they get addicted and then their money is gone and suddenly all they have to get high on is the memory of a sane life. 

...and before I get any more poetic I need another drink.

_“You’re a real flowery guy, anyone ever tell you that, Nureyev?” was what Juno whispered to me in the wholly different lifetime that was last night._

_“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean, darling.”_

“So,” the man next to me says, as he takes out his wallet to buy a violet cocktail. His voice echoes: “So-oh-oh-oh". “What brings you to Callisto?”

I wave a hand dismissively. “What brings anyone to Callisto?” I can’t hear my own voice even though everyone else’s seems heightened. My head is throbbing pounding in my temples pounding at the base of my skull pounding behind my eyes. I say, "Out of curiosity, do you have any more of those Silver Mage syringes?" and feel my mouth moving, but forget the words as soon as I've said them. 

He replies with a confused tone, some overlapping words, then a friendly laugh and phrase that might be him saying, "Oh, what the hell". He takes out another syringe and gives it to me. I smile, feeling the muscles in my draw contract with heightened sense, that hurts a little bit.

"Thank you. Now I really should be -" 

He says something else, I think it's: "can I give you my card?" and then there's a slip of paper in my fingers. "Call me sometime," he offers. "If you like..." His voice fades out into a blend of words that ends with "dinner". I smile painfully again and tuck the card into my pocket, where I stashed his wallet after I lifted it fully five minutes ago, and I walk away. The music continues to pulse in my ears as I maneuver my way through the crowd of high people throwing themselves around around around seriously do you call that dancing? I dance, rarely - aliases are sometimes dancers - they have to be, if the mark requires it - I am a master thief - a woman steps on my foot.

I don't know what this is but it's definitely not music. 

I'm walking down a flickering-lighted hallway that leads to the street; I'm going to break into a hotel and sleep in an unused room until I can decide what happens next, that seems like a logical plan. Something in me whispers _(screams_ ) that this isn't right that I shouldn't be feeling this way, that I'll regret those drugs in the morning. I press a hand over my throbbing head as I walk, my other fingering the Silver Mage needle in my pocket that I should take out and throw on the ground and step on and crush under my heel rather than take with me. 

"Hey." 

There's someone in this hallway, this hallway that leads to the car garage _(...why did I take this hallway?)_ It's a man in an expensive suit, smoking a cigarette. He smiles. "Nice dress." 

I don't answer. I don't want to talk to anyone, just want to get out into the street and find a hotel, throw myself into a bed and cry myself to sleep and not not not not not think about Juno Steel. Is that so much to ask? _(Is it?)_

"I said nice dress."

My heart dips in my chest. "...Thank you." 

I hear a vague sound in the distance that my confused mind can't quite understand, but then suddenly it's as if someone has sped up time, because he appears beside me with a grin on his face. He tucks his cigarette behind his ear. "You're a gorgeous guy." 

_Get away from me_ , I want to snap. I open my mouth but can't remember how to form the words but the glare must show up on my face because he frowns and tells me:

"Hey, hey, no offense. It was just a compliment." And he grabs me by my hip. 

I turn my head and stare directly into his eyes until he looks down, uncomfortable. "Did you just touch me?" I force my mouth to whisper. He stutters something and drops his hand. 

"I-I-"

The man in the expensive suit crumples at my feet, blood gurgling in his torn throat. His eyes stare up at me, wide, bulging, his blue-turning tongue flailing and his limbs twitching and then he's staring at nothing, and his body goes still. I wipe my knife on his shirt before sheathing it again. Then I step over his dead body and continue down the hall, through the parking garage and down to greet the rush of cold air through the entrance.

At least there's one thing I won't regret tomorrow. 

***

It takes me about twelve hours of sleep, but I get over the drug high and settle uncomfortably into the alcohol hangover. I know I should be spending time doing something productive, except...

Except...

Except...

Except I can't find the energy to get out of bed. 

I press my face into the plush curve of the pillow; it's one of about fifty pillows piled onto this bed, all different patterns and fabrics, gathered from the finest markets across the galaxy. It's not that I'm tired, not really; I just don't want to be awake. I want to close my eyes and sleep for a long time. I want to wake up to a kinder world where my memories of Juno Steel are gone and I can be the person I was before I met him. 

_(Who was I before I met him?)_

I force myself to climb out of bed and rip off my clothes. I fell asleep in the high-necked dress; once it's gone and I'm in the bathroom, fumbling for a light switch, I can see all of the marks Juno left on me. They haven't faded yet. I turn away from the mirror and get into a cold shower. The water hits me like a thousand small needles, shockingly frigid, almost numbing. I let it freeze me. 

I need to go steal some more clothes; I need to drink some water; I need to eat so that I can take the edge off my hangover. What I really need is a manicure. I'll never pass for a wealthy socialite with my nails looking like that. I need to get past whatever this is that I've found myself in and return to my normal life. 

_(Before I met him I would have everything I needed before the sun was even up. I stole all the time, anything, everything, without finding a single challenge too great. I stole what I needed to get through the day, plus whatever extra for pleasure, and then..._

_And then I lived another day so that I could steal again after that.)_

What exactly was I living for before I met him?

I've never asked myself that question before. 

What exactly am I living for now?

***

One more drink isn't going to kill me. 

***

I sit bolt upright in bed one night, gasping. My vision is still blurry, and the room is so shaky it seems to be rotating. I dreamed about Juno again _(and again and again and again)_. My eyes sting. I get up and grab the Silver Mage syringe from next to my bed, plunging it into my arm and pressing down until I feel the rush of it pumping gently into my veins. With trembling arms, I throw open the door to the room's balcony and step out. The night air is warm. In its humidity it carries that faint intoxicating fragrance. I close my eyes, feeling the heat of it dance and swirl around me rapidly, every brush of it on my skin heightened by the drug. When I open my eyes I am looking at the balcony's railing. 

_(I could jump off)._

It isn't something I would actually want to do, but I find I can't argue with the fact that it's something I could do. 

I lay my hand on the side of the railing and consider swinging one leg over to the other side. Then, maybe, the other. It would be very easy to climb over. 

_"Detective, are you trying to climb out that window?"_

The drug is fully taking hold of me. I do not climb over the railing. I go back to bed and dream wild dreams. 

***

"So," says the man named Christopher Tan. "You're on a moon where every drug is legal... and you haven't found anyone else to sell you Silver Mage?" 

"Believe it if you want." I trail my fingertips along the drink menu, scrolling the screen through an apparently endless list of cocktails. 

"I'm not sure I do believe it. It's not exactly rare." 

I lower my eyes at him and sigh, selecting a drink at random. "If you must know, I'd rather get it for free." 

"You'd like me to just give you another syringe of Silver Mage?" He smirks slightly, like this is a game we're playing. "What am I getting in return?" 

"I let you take me out for a drink, didn't I?" 

"Huh. I see. So you're saying my reward for giving you an expensive drug is getting to buy you an expensive drink." 

"Now you get the picture." This flirtatious banter is frankly exhausting to me, but I keep it up. I don't want to back down until I have another needle in my pocket.

Christopher Tan rolls his eyes and orders the same drink as me. I have no idea what it is, or if it will mix well with the pills I tried this morning. Where a normal hotel might put out bottles of shampoo or bars of soap, this one put out a jar of pills as red as the shirt I’d laid out to wear. I washed three of them down with my morning tea. 

"Hmm," murmurs Tan. He glances around and then leans towards me. "You know… just a few days ago, I wouldn’t have been able to buy you a drink.” 

"Oh?" 

"My wallet was stolen. The thief returned it while I was asleep last night - missing a few bills, but no virtual currency. Weird, isn't it?" 

"Hmm." 

"Petty thefts like that have been happening all over the city, actually. A dress stolen here, a tie there. Expensive things, but not a lot of them." 

"How unusual," I say with a straight face, as I finger the cufflinks of my new black suit. 

"Yes, it is." Christopher Tan turns musingly away from me as our drinks arrive. They're horrendous. I order three more. 

***

But maybe maybe maybe

_(my head hurts I can't see I can't think)_

maybe he left because of something I did wrong. 

I think about how he closed the door

behind me, how he

locked himself in to die, 

_(I did two doses of Silver Mage and then a line of something shipped all the way here by the Prince of Mars-)_

how his voice sounded when he told me it was the end

like he was resigned

how his voice sounded when his quasi suicide failed

like he was disappointed - 

_(my fingers scrabble in my pockets for another syringe)_

I asked him to come with me, and he said yes, but was I asking for too much, and was I dooming him to feel trapped into something that he knew he couldn't go through with, and did he already know he would walk out before I took him into my arms, before we checked into the hotel, before I even asked him to leave with me? 

_(The needle is stuck in my arm and I can't get it out)._

Before I kissed him - 

_(I'm on my knees)_

Before I slipped my hands into his clothes -

_(I pull on the needle, hard)_

Before I covered his body with mine -

_(Why is my arm bleeding)_

Before I made love to him like I never have with anyone else -

_(I'm not going to cry right now)_

Before I told him that I had fallen in love with him -

_(And I did love him, I did, so much)_

\- had he already made his decision?

Was there any other decision he could make, when I asked him in the way that I did, though I can barely remember what that way was? Was this my fault? 

_(I'm retching into a bathtub, re-tasting the sour sting of those cocktails; I'm huddled on the tile floor of a bathroom sobbing for all I'm worth; I'm fishing around in my purse for more Silver Mage)._

Did I deserve what he did to me? 

_(I'm blacking out before I can get the cap off the syringe.)_

I have never wanted to be alive less than I do right now.

***

My comms buzz. This is unusual because no one is supposed to have my number. 

“Hermes Fitzgerald speaking.”

“Hello,” says an indistinct voice on the other side. “I’m calling for Eujin Laird. Could you put him on, please?” 

I wrack my blurry mind and take another swig from the jeweled flask I stole last night. Eujin Laird sounds familiar. I think it might be a previous alias, which I find amusing. I’ve been Hermes Fitzgerald for several weeks now and the time of a new alias every day feels like another life. 

“I’m sorry,” I giggle. “I don’t know who that is.” 

“Ah. In that case may I speak to Emery Marquis.” 

That makes me take notice. Emery Marquis is another alias. He was the one I contacted Miasma under. The voice on the comms is blurred, obviously been put through some filter to disguise it. I can’t make out pitch, accent, anything. 

This is new. Someone’s tracked down several of my aliases to contact me under. I try not to be flattered.

“Again, I don’t know that name,” I say, twirling the flask between my fingers. “I think you have the wrong -”

“If Emery Marquis is also not available,” the voice interrupts, “would it be possible for me to speak to Duke Rose?” 

My heart skips a beat. 

_“Hang on, what the hell kind of name is Dahlia Rose?”_

_“Yours, now. Oh, don’t make that face. Not every name can be as pretty as Juno.” I savored the blush that immediately crept onto his cheeks. Already I was attracted to this detective, curious to learn more about him. “Ta, Dahlia dearest.”_

“Who is this?” I whisper into the receiver. 

“Since you have not told me your true name I cannot tell you mine either. That is only fair.”

“How did you get this number?”

“I have an offer for you.” 

“I’m not interested. Don’t contact me again.”

I hang up. 

***

My hair has grown long enough to brush my jawline. I keep it pulled back in a small ponytail at the nape of my neck and try not to wonder if Juno would like it. I need to accept that Juno is gone, that I will never see him again. I need to, but… I don’t.

The world feels empty to me. 

My brain is lost in a dark fog, a consistent buzz playing at the edge of my head. I keep getting syringes, keep drinking, trying to numb myself out of the world, but instead of that everything seems heightened. I can see how saturated with sensations the world around me is, but I feel removed from it. 

I know I should take care of myself, but I don’t feel worthy of my own care.

Is this what Juno felt like? If it is, it’s no wonder he wanted to die. I do, too, right now. 

Well, no, that’s not exactly true. It’s not that I want to die - it’s just that I don’t want to be alive anymore. 

***

I meet Christopher Tan for dinner in a highscale restaurant decorated in an ancient Earth style - something called Greek. There are mosaics on the floor, columns forming the walls, and when I arrive he gets up and pulls a chair out for me. 

I forced myself to stay off drugs all day before this. I may be an addict, but I have standards, and damn it I will look good on this thing that might be a date. 

To my surprise, it turns out to be somewhat fun. The restaurant has no less than five extensive menus - in addition to appetizers and entrees there are desserts, drinks, and of course, drugs. I make myself stick to food and push the drug menu away. True, I haven’t been eating much lately, but while the food is rich, it comes in small portions, so it doesn’t upset me. 

Tan tells me about his work across the galaxy, in psychological research involving medications and machines to aid and study the human brain. Then he starts asking me about myself.

“How old are you?” 

“Thirty-five.” _(Lie - by now I’m thirty-seven.)_

“What’s your zodiac sign? I’m fascinated by astrology.” 

“I am as well! It’s Libra.” _(Two lies. I don’t care for astrology, and although the exact date is long forgotten, I do know that I’m a Sagittarius.)_

“How long are you planning to stay on Callisto?” 

“Only a few more weeks.” _(Lie. I have absolutely no idea.)_

“Attractive man like you, people must have been all over you since you arrived on this moon. Anyone special you want to tell me about?” 

“Why, so you could read their minds for me and tell me if they feel the same? That’s amusing, but there’s no one at the moment.” 

_(Lie.)_

It’s nice, though, to sit and chat with someone. He seems interested in what I say, and his interest in me is enjoyable, even though I know it’s unfounded, since I haven’t said a single true thing to him this entire night. I’m surprisingly interested in his work, too. Most of the rich people I’ve encountered just sit around filling their purses off the hard work of others. 

It makes me feel like I might have done something I never have before. I might have made a friend. 

_(But there has to be some ulterior motive, doesn't there?)_

“I’m working on another thing,” he says, pushing aside his half-eaten raspberry meringue. “I came here to Callisto to study for it.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s a sleeping pill.” He smiles at the expression that must land on my face. “I see you’re not impressed. Well, it’s not just any sleeping pill - it can be combined with any drugs or alcohol without bad effects. I noticed that people here die frequently when they combine medicine with all the drugs in their system. I’ve set up a lab nearby and I’m almost finished. There are five bottles so far.”

_(I want one.)_

“Could I perhaps see your lab?” 

He smiles as he clicks a pen to sign the check. “Why do you think I told you about it?” 

We leave the restaurant and get a taxi. Tan’s lab is a few blocks away, at the top of a spiraling building. There are seven different locking mechanisms on the door, and security cameras pointed all down the hall.

“This certainly is secretive,” I murmur, shivering a little. I’m wearing a strapless dress with a slit only one inch short of illegality, and it’s cold in here. 

“This research is very important to me. I keep it private.” I’m flattered that he trusts me enough to show it to me, and wonder again why he thinks I'm worthy of his confidence. He opens the door and gives me a friendly smile. “After you.” 

The lab is underwhelming - bright lights, fancy equipment, a lot of dials and numbers I don’t understand. At the very center is a table with five ornate glass jars. Each has a crytal stopper and a ribbon tied around the neck. They look more like perfume bottles, really, except that instead of perfume they’re all full of tiny white pills.

Tan picks one bottle up and holds it out to me. “Impressive, yes?” Then he frowns. “Although this light doesn’t really do them justice. Here, follow me.” He opens a door in the corner of the lab and leads me up a narrow spiral staircase. It lets out in the foyer of a penthouse apartment overlooking the city. I walk over to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and gaze down on the neon lights, the people crowding the streets. The distant slums look so low in comparison to these high skyscrapers that they could almost be inverted, built downwards into the ground.

“There,” says Tan from behind me, and I turn around. He stands under a crystal chandelier with the pill bottle between his fingers. In the light, the stopper and bottle shimmer with rainbows bouncing in the fractals so that the pills seem to glow. 

“Beautiful,” I say.

“I’m glad you think so.” He holds out the bottle to me. “Here - a gift.” I accept it, glad to know that I might actually get some sleep now. As I tuck the bottle into my handbag, Christopher Tan murmurs, “You know, you’re beautiful too.”

_(There it is.)_

I lift my head to look at him. He takes a step towards me, not touching me, but close enough that he could. He smiles, almost shyly. “I’ve met a lot of people here on Callisto,” he says. “And all over the galaxy. But I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you, Hermes.”

My heart starts pounding. “Oh?” I say. 

“No.” He smiles wider and reaches out, hand hovering in the air between us. “You don’t see the world like other people do. You’re above everything that doesn’t matter. Some people might call that aloof, but to me… to me, it just shows how confident you are in yourself. I don’t know any other man like that.” He waits, lifts an eyebrow. “I’ve felt so drawn to you… and I’ve hoped you might feel the same towards me.” 

I don’t. Of course I don’t. But he’s shown me kindness, and couldn’t I use that right now?

“Can I touch you?” he whispers.

_(And I’m lonely.)_

I swallow hard. “Yes.”

“I didn’t hear you -”

“I said yes.” 

He smiles and places his calloused hand onto the slope of my cheek, and as soon as he does I realize that there’s no way I would ever be attracted to this man. But I don’t push him away. 

_(I could tell him the truth for the first time tonight and say I want to go back to my hotel room.)_

It's not like I was doing anything tonight anyway.

And then he’s kissing my neck, and I’m suddenly regretting my every decision but making more anyway - and that regret and this confusion and the overly sweet taste of the raspberry meringue on his tongue - it’s _feeling_ , I’m feeling something, and isn’t it better to feel something than to feel nothing at all? 

_(Isn’t it? Isn’t it?)_

Feelings are what make up life, aren’t they? That’s life. That’s what it is.

I don’t have time to puzzle it out, because then my dress is on the floor and there's a couch underneath us and I’m kissing him back, trying not think of Juno and unable to think of anything else.

_(Is this all there is?)_

***

"Are you alright, Hermes?"

"Fine. I'm just having trouble falling asleep." 

"Would you like a pill?" 

"Yes, I think I would." 

***

I spend more nights with Christopher Tan. He buys me dinner and even some new clothes, which defeats my purpose as a thief. I spend my days lounging around in my hotel room or his apartment, doing drugs, eating food worth more than entire planets, and thinking about how much I hate myself. 

At night while he sleeps, I stare at the ceiling as if I could read the secrets of the universe there, but find only marble. I am a man who cannot even puzzle out my own thoughts. This man used to be intelligent, quick-thinking, taking every breath like it was his first and last as he chased sunrises across a galaxy. He doesn't deserve the love he wanted to give to someone else. Another person broke his heart, so he went out and broke everything else. 

Peter Nureyev really went off the deep end this time. 

Peter Nureyev is coming unraveled. 

***

Christopher comes into his apartment one day, almost vibrating with excitement. I glance at him from where I'm lounging across a million cred sofa. 

"Did you bring me up a pill bottle like I asked? I've almost run out." 

"Forget about the pills." He drops his bags, sweeps over to my sofa, and bends over me, kissing me on the mouth. The domesticity of it alarms me. I wrench my lips away from his and stand up, but in his excitement he doesn't even seem to notice. "I've moved on to something bigger," he chirps. "Why do you keep it so dark in here? Turn on the chandelier!" A thick plastic bag rustles as he pulls out a bottle of champagne. "Come on, we're celebrating." 

"What, exactly?" 

He drops into the chair across from the sofa where I sat a minute ago. "I've just secured a deal," he says, peeling away the gold foil, "with one Ramses O'Flaherty."

"Who?"

"Do you follow Martian politics?"

"Not really." Too painful. 

"Ramses O'Flaherty is going to be the new mayor of Hyperion City." 

I freeze. 

"And when he takes office," Christopher continues, twisting the tie of the champagne bottle, "he's planning something truly amazing. Something to remove the citizen's will towards evil - well, it's a really technical thing, you might not understand it. Basically, it's a microchip that makes informed decisions for the user." The cork pops off the bottle. "He's calling it a THEIA Soul." 

My heart is racing, my palms sweating. Hyperion City - Juno's city. The city he chose over me. 

This man I've been sleeping with is helping someone take over Juno's city. 

"Of course, it's very secret, so you obviously can't tell anyone." He offers me a flute of champagne... dear god, he's _grinning_ , like the prospect of taking over people's bodies is exciting to him. "The profit will be unimaginable. Do you want some new clothes? Go out and get yourself some new clothes. Get a car. Get anything you like."

"Wait," I interrupt. "These chips... they would essentially possess people?" 

He blinks at me, chuckles a few times. "Well, of course, when you put it like _that_ it sounds bad. But Hermes, these are just removing people's desire to make bad decisions for themselves. It's a way to rebuild for the greater good. Trust me, if there's any city in the galaxy that needs rebuilding, it's Hyperion. Their poverty rate is staggering." 

_(No, I think this city needs it.)_

"I can't wait to get to work." He sets down his champagne flute, practically rubbing his hands together in excitement. I let him touch me with those hands. I let this man _touch me._

He's going to hurt Juno. 

"You can't do this." 

Christopher Tan pauses at my words. He lowers the champagne flute, annoyance in his eyes. "Oh? Why's that, Hermes?" 

"You can't do that to people, however much rebuilding you may think they require." I draw myself up to my full height and glare him down. "It's despicable."

"Darling, it's business." 

_(Something finally snaps in me.)_

I storm to the door and slam the lock down. When I whirl around to face Christopher Tan, he's on his feet, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Hermes, what's the matter? This is a great opportunity for me." 

"That's not my name." 

"What?" 

"I said that's _not my fucking name_." I whip a knife out from the inside of my blazer. He lifts his hands.

"Whoa, oh my god, Hermes, calm down -"

"You need to pull out of the contract," I demand, brandishing the knife before me. "I'm not letting you destroy Hyperion City."

"It's just a dumpy Martian slum! Why do you care so much?" 

"Say you'll do it!" I step closer to him. "I swear I'll kill you - I will!" And I would. I could kill him like I killed Mag and leave him bleeding out all over this absurdly expensive rug. It would be so easy. "Say you'll pull out of the contract." 

"Who the fuck are you?!" 

"I SAID SAY IT!"

He looks around helplessly for something to defend himself with. Bad decision. While his attention is scattered, I take three running steps across the space between us and grab him in a headlock, my knife against his neck. 

" _Say it_ ," I hiss.

"Ack - security!" he cries. I press my arm down tighter over his throat. To my horror, he starts to laugh, a dry, rasping sound. "Heh," he gasps. "You really - had me fooled. I should have - should have seen this coming - there were a lot of -" He breaks off, gasping. "Little tells. Things I couldn't - figure out." 

I could snap his neck just to shut him up. 

"You were using me," he whispers, locking eyes with me. "For drugs. I can't believe - you actually used me for drugs."

"Tell me you'll drop the contract."

He gives the slightest shake of his head. "You're a monster," he murmurs, like he's coming to some clarity. "God... I _trusted_ you." 

"SAY IT!" I scream, but before I can do anything else he stamps down hard on my foot. He's distracted me with the eye contact; no one should be able to get me so easily, but I'm badly out of practice at this, and now he's twisted away from me. He grabs me by my shoulders and smashes my face with his forehead, sending me staggering. I think my nose might be broken; blood gushes in hot spurts down onto my white suit. I see him scoop something up from one of his dropped bags, and I assume it's a weapon, until I see how small it is. 

It's a microchip. 

Probably his prototype for the THEIA soul. 

"Okay, fine," he says. "You know what? If that's how you want to play, let's play." He charges at me. I wait until he's closer and then kick him in the face with my high heel, but the kick throws me off balance and I topple onto the floor, landing on top of him with my leg at a bad angle. He keeps laughing. 

"I really trusted you," he repeats, grappling for my wrists. "I almost loved you."

He tries to hit me. I grab his wrist and squeeze it, digging my sharp nails into his skin until he drops the chip. Before I can throw it away he flips me over and now he's on top of me, pinning me to the floor by my chest, one hand covering my wrists. 

"I don't understand why you had to go and ruin everything, Hermes. Why did you do that?"

I spit in his face. 

"Now that's just rude. I mean, seriously?" 

He snatches up the microchip and positions it above my racing heart. I'm really and truly trapped this time; sluggish from the drugs still working around in my body, tired from the fight. I watch the microchip get closer and closer to my skin. 

"You really are beautiful, you know," he murmurs, tracing my cheek with the edge of the chip. "it's so sad I have to destroy you." 

_(Maybe this is for the best.)_

_(Maybe it's okay if this is how I cease existing.)_

Except...

Except...

Except... no. 

Peter Nureyev, master thief, will not die on the floor because of a _microchip._

So I twist free the hand that he isn't pinning quite as well, and I rake my nails down his face. He screams, writhing in pain, and I drive my knee up into his stomach. I shove him off of me and snap the chip out of his hands, and before he has time to say anything I'm on my feet, the point of my heel in the exact center of his chest. I crumble the microchip in one hand and take out an extra knife with the other. Christopher Tan lies there, helpless, whimpering as he looks at me through the blood dripping down his face. 

"P-please," he sputters. "Don't kill me." 

It's would be so easy to kill him. 

_(Except... what would Juno do?)_

I bend down until my face is level with his, and hold the knife between us so he can see it. Then I flip the knife around and slam the hilt of it between his eyes. He's out cold, but alive.

I get up and tuck my knife back into place. "For the record, I never trusted you," I mumble. 

Before I escape, I go down to his lab and take all of the pill bottles. I want to take some Silver Mage too, but I can't find any, and I need to get going quickly. I'm not sure if the security heard his call or not, but I don't want to take any chances. 

As I start walking towards the window, a wave of nausea washes over me, causing me to stumble to one side and press my hand into the wall to regain my balance. All of the exhaustion from the fight hits me at once now that the adrenaline is gone. 

_(Juno is in danger.)_

At that exact moment, an alarm starts ringing. 

I scramble clumsily out a nearby window, ride the drainpipe to the ground. I turn into the nearest alley and start running. My shoes splash in the puddles of rainwater that glisten under the streetlight, so that now my white suit is hemmed with an inch of mud. There are spatters of blood all over from my fight with Christopher. I can still hear the alarms ringing. 

_(Juno is in danger.)_

I take another alleyway to my right, continue sprinting. I'm moving away from the mansions and skyscrapers, into the huddled buildings past the luxury. People glance out at me from sloped doorframes and through clouds of smoke. The stench of that smoke mixes horribly with the Callisto air. 

I run until the heel of my shoe snaps off, and then I snap the heel off the other shoe with my hands and keep running. I don't stop until I'm so far out that there are no people - no landmarks at all, in fact, just shells that might have been buildings before I was born. I stagger into one of them and slump against the outline of a wall.

Juno is in danger. I almost died, and now he is going to. 

Juno is in danger, and I have no way to get to him.

I stand up straight and look out of the gaping doorframe towards the distant light of the wealthy district. The fragrant air stirs around me in a gentle breeze, tossing my hair, and my filthy white suit, and drying the tears pouring down my face. I wonder wildly what I look like. Maybe tragically beautiful. Maybe just wasted. 

Somehow I fall asleep.

***

"Juno? Juno, it's me, it's - listen, I sincerely hope you won't mind, but I researched your office's comms number to call you. Juno, you're in danger, you need to get out of Hyperion City. I can't explain why, but if you get a chance... please call me back. I'll explain everything then, I promise."

"Juno, for god's sake, answer your comms - Juno, there's a man plotting to take over your city. His name is Ramses O'Flaherty, and you should not trust him under any circumstances, do you understand me? If you meet him, get as far away from him as possible. And please call me back when you get a chance." 

"Juno, darling, oh darling, it's been five weeks and I still haven't heard from you, and my love, I'm so sorry for whatever it is I did, but know now that I'm concerned with keeping you _safe_ _,_ with keeping you _alive_ , even if I never hear from you again, and I want to protect you if you'll only let me - and I love you, Juno, I love you, I love you, I love you -"

_"We're sorry. This comms line has been disconnected due to inactivity. All messages deleted. Goodbye." Click._

No. 

"I love you," I whisper again. 

***

So this is it, then. 

Juno is probably dead. 

I am in these streets where people move in clouds of drugs, too numb to speak. Where they kill each other just to get another dose. I am amazed I haven't been killed yet. 

The pill bottles bounce around in my pockets, but I don't even bother trying to muffle them. If someone attacks me, I defend myself. If I die, I die. 

_(I was living for nothing before him and I'm still living for nothing after him, I have fallen from the person that I used to be and I can't find the energy to climb up again.)_

I think -

_(What is living like?)_

I need to do something exceptionally stupid.

_(What is dying like?)_

I'll give myself one stupid decision. 

One to end all of this, or one to enter into an entirely different life of confusion and unpredictability and doubt and pain -

I could die or I could exist. 

I can choose, since the universe doesn't seem to want to choose for me. 

I think about it while I take a pill. I think about it when I wake up, amazed to have lasted another night. 

I think about it, and then I fish out my comms. 

***

"Who is this?"

"You called me before. Don't you remember?"

"That was months ago." 

"Still. I'd like to hear your offer." 

"Ah. My offer is quite simple. I am aware that you are in possession of my car. I would like to offer you money in return for it back." 

"...you wouldn't happen to be Jet Siquliak, would you?"

"The very same. Please name your terms. I am embarking on a significant mission soon and it is essential that I will have the best tools at my disposal. That includes the best getaway car in the galaxy."

"I see, and I suppose you can't tell me what kind of mission that is?"

"Of course I cannot. I would simply like to meet you in person and pay you for my car back." 

"Well then, I suppose that's my term. I want to know what your mission is about." 

"...fine. Have you ever met Buddy Aurinko?" 

"Once. She's involved?" 

"She is a close friend of mine. Tell me, do you keep up with Martian politics?" 

_(This is my stupid decision, and I'm making it to save my life.)_

"I'm interested. I'd like in on this mission, I think."

"We are not seeking another crew member." 

"Shame, you're about to have one. Where would you like to discuss this?" 

"Very well, though I cannot guarantee you will be taken aboard. What name should I give to my crewmates when I mention you?" 

"Glass. Rex Glass. Send me your coordinates." 

**Author's Note:**

> big shout out to my babe rudzik-art for the beautiful piece that accompanied this fic. 
> 
> follow the series for the next installment, coming in about a week! it will be Juno's POV this time. 
> 
> and if you haven't already, follow me on tumblr: this-is-a-podcast-fanblog.tumblr.com


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